


Fucking Fulfillment.  And Closure

by nikirik



Category: True Detective
Genre: Drabble, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikirik/pseuds/nikirik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t reach out and inhale Rust or press lips to his, he doesn’t indulge himself ‘cause it’s useless. You don’t kiss the deathly whirlwind without the death wish. And he knew too well he’ll be smashed with the darkness he’ll never be able to oppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Fulfillment.  And Closure

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Chinese is available http://archiveofourown.org/works/1499885. Many thanks to alucard1771!

1

“I _hate_ you,” Rust breaths out turning his face away so Marty won’t notice a break in his features.

His smell is of cut grass, machine oil and something indefinably Cohle, which Marty can only hardly describe as frantic and weary. 

“No shit”, Marty grins, “So that’s why you’ve been mowing my lawn.”

His skin is sun burnt, alright, and it makes Marty wonder, ‘cause he can’t picture Rust anywhere outside of the bleak evidence room or that joke of apartment he has. This lean body must belong to someone else, younger and more naïve, not this depressive dark whirlwind of philosophical bullshit poorly disguised as a man.

“What are you _doing_ , Marty?” the whirlwind asks, and how come Marty never noticed his fingers touching, _no_ , tracing other man’s biceps. He jerks away. Must be the heat.

Rust nods his unsaid excuses and strolls away, while his skin cells are still burning on Marty’s fingertips.

_Fuck._

2

The double date was Maggie’s idea, and it crashed down like an airplane - _in flames_.  

Everything is just so wrong from the start to the finish. Marty is sure he is cursed.

He expects Rust to come drunk again, but the bastard is fresh as a daisy and as charming as it gets. Who would’ve guessed chicks dig smartasses. Marty feigns disinterest as Cohle explains in the serious manner of his some scientific shit. He doesn’t stare at the lively spark in Rust’s dark eyes, nor does he find the man in question unusually cute.

‘Cause Lisa is dancing with some dumb fucker right under his nose.

Marty ain’t the one to let things like this – _disrespect_  - go.

“Hey,” Rust catches him by the arm, “wanna dance?”

_The fuck,_ boils the blood sending unwanted images straight to Marty’s dirty mind, until he gets it’s his wife he’ll dance with.

He can’t help but glance at the awkward way Rust leads his lady to the dance floor. His face is unreadable as usual.

Lisa kisses her partner, but Marty doesn’t seem to register this moment in his mind.

It’s totally occupied with Rust Cohle dancing.

What a mindfuck this is.

3

Marty slams the door of the rental car.

“What d’ye think, Rust,” he asks with his heart beating in his throat. “Can man love two people at the same time?”

“’M not sure man can love at all,” Cohle answers evenly, as if talking about weather.

Marty watches his profile and sees a person who’s been robbed. Robbed of desire, which seems to be the drive he notices in other people. _This_ man beside him doesn’t want anything or anyone. It shouldn’t hurt so much but as it does he can’t help but lit a cigarette and pass it to his partner.

“I can,” he says in a low voice you only make the greatest confessions in.

“Sure,” Rust retorts, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, and Marty fears he has a heatstroke. It tingles all through his body and leaves him paralyzed, helpless, aching.

Here goes nothing.

_He doesn’t reach out and inhale Rust or press lips to his, he doesn’t indulge himself ‘cause it’s useless. You don’t kiss the deathly whirlwind without the death wish. And he knew too well he’ll be smashed with the darkness he’ll never be able to oppose._

_Love me or die trying._

I can.

Sure.


End file.
